


A Day at the Office

by Canarii



Series: Time Will Crawl [2]
Category: Ashes to Ashes, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:11:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canarii/pseuds/Canarii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Requested: A fic involving a broomstick, a tub of lard, a dead flower and a hairpin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day at the Office

**Author's Note:**

> I SWEAR THERE IS AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS. And that explanation is Twitter. Damn you twitter.
> 
> Bexxen @KGaleway Prompt: write a fic involving a broomstick, a tub of lard, a dead flower and a hairpin.
> 
> Technobabbled @KGaleway Bonus points if the tub of lard is Gene. /shot3:36 PM Nov 4th from TweetDeck in reply to KGaleway.)

“So I’m guessing that’s our...”

“Nothing else left big enough.”

“Yeah.”

“Smells like it at least.”

“Right, someone should really...”

“Of course. “

“The sooner the better, it’s not getting any...”

“Fresher, right.”

“Just to be sure, don’t want to call the team out for nothing.”

“Wouldn’t want that.”

“....”

“....”

“Alex?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to open it?”

Both women had spent the better part of the past five minutes looking balefully at the last large barrel in the warehouse. A barrel that was currently oozing over a viscous pinkish yellow substance where the seal had been broken some days ago. Probably the same time the body of 63 year old, 350 lb, Bernard Finnagan had reportedly disposed of in this particular warehouse.

Sally Sparrow glanced at her Boss/Flatmate/partner in time-traveling insanity skeptically. Either Alex Drake had forgotten her blush this morning, or she’d made the same intuitive leap Sally had, and paled at the prospect. “Right.” The DI said, “Of course, we’re here to investigate, and so that’s exactly what I’m...” she trailed off, giving the blonde an almost pleading glance, “I don’t suppose you’ve...”

“Way ahead of you.” Sally said, handing over a fresh pair of latex gloves, “You had me at ‘hazardous waste disposal facility’.” The DI sighed in barely hidden relief, snapping on the gloves,

“What would I do without you?” Alex said teasingly, it was nice to have someone competant around in this unholy decade.

“Well, for one, you wouldn’t have anyone to hold your hair whe...”

“Right! Murder investigation!” The DI interrupted, grasping the handle on the lid of the barrel, and wrenching it off with a solid twist. She lifted it straight up, the putrid mess dripping slowly from the underside of the lid. One long strand of partially dissolved tissue clung to the underside for a long moment, before dropping off with a distinct plop, disappearing into the acrid soup below. “Oh god.” The DI said, in disgust and horror, dropping the lid beside the barrel as she looked in on the mess inside.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Sally admitted weakly beside her. The statement was enough to make the DI shake off her own disgust long enough to arch a questioning eyebrow.

“You’re a crime reporter.” She said dryly, even while forcing her own breakfast back down.

“I’m a bloody shopkeeper with a camera!” Sally argued, when a muffled bloop caught both their attentions. They turned to see a mostly skeletal hand emerge from between the large yellowed blobs floating at the surface of the barrel. “Excuse me.” Sally squeaked, before ducking behind a row of barrels, before, by the sounds, promptly losing her breakfast in an empty one.

Alex sighed, looking back at the barrel ‘o body, and almost laughed. Pity Sally hadn’t stayed to take a closer look at the position of the hand, slime-covered and horrific as it was, if she had she might have noticed the skeletal middle finger pointed at the sky. Thankfully, the Quattro, fully loaded with the usual suspects skidded to a halt outside the warehouse doors before Alex could spend too much time internally monologing about ironies of life, death, and sulfuric acid.

“Right” Gene Hunt said, striding up to Alex and she walked, in turn to meet him, “Did’ya find the fat bastard?”

“One barrel of fat bastard, on the house.” Alex said dryly, gesturing behind her. Sally soon reemerged from behind the barrels, looking rather green around the edges. The DCI shot her a disparaging look,

“You better not have contaminated the crime scene blondie.” Before Sally could even open her mouth to protest he’d brushed past them both towards the body, the DI couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard the photographer murmuring something about exchanging one tub of lard for another.

“No, we wouldn’t want that.” Alex grumbled under her breath, snatching the fag out of Chris’s mouth as he passed her, and putting it soundly with her bootheel. The two women exchanged a glance, and sighed almost identically. Just another day at the office, right?


End file.
